The Blackguards

The Priest

                At the second polite yet insistent knocking upon the door, Jehanne stopped scrubbing her mother’s apron and dropped it back into the bucket.  By the time she had dried her hands and walked over to open the door, the house’s visitor had his fist raised to knock a third time.  Jehanne smiled politely at the gentleman – for he clearly was a gentleman, well-dressed and well-presented – and quickly apologised for her tardiness in receiving.

                “Truly sorry, sir, I was in the middle of m’chores!” she said hurriedly, while bobbing an awkward curtsy at the man.

                “It’s quite alright, my child,” replied the older man as he lowered his hand.  It was then that Jehanne took stock enough of his clothing to realise he wasn’t just a gentleman but a member of the clergy, his sash and robes marking him as a priest of Arin.  “Is your mother home?  Or perhaps your father?  I had a matter of the church to discuss with them.”

                “Father’s at the smithy, and Ma’s at the mill, sir,” said Jehanne, clumsily curtsying again.

                “Oh please, there’s no need to bend the knee to me, dear girl. I am a priest, not a lord!”  He grinned cheerily, and Jehanne found herself blushing.  She was used to priests being old and dull, but this one was barely older than her father and seemed most jolly and lively.  “A shame that your parents are not home to receive me.  Still, I have come all this way...” he paused, looking expectantly at the young woman before him, who gave only a blank look response, “Ah, might I trouble you for a glass of milk or small beer?  My throat is somewhat parched.”

                “Oh, of course!” answered Jehanne, stepping back and beckoning the priest into her home.  “Um, please do come in, Almsman.”  She waved an arm towards the basic table and chairs that served as the family’s seating and dining area, and shut the door behind the priest as he entered, before hurrying off to fetch him a mug of small beer from the barrel in the cool-room.

                “You are very kind.  Your parents are, I trust, adherents of Arin?”  The girl nodded at the question as she handed the mug over, and then stood respectfully off to one side, her arms clasped behind her back.  “That is always good to hear.  Mm, that is most refreshing,” he raised the mug slightly and gave a nod of thanks, “you have my sincere gratitude, young lady.”  Setting the mug down, he smiled kindly at the girl as he looked her over.  “How old are you, my dear?”

                “Fifteen, Almsman,” she replied, without hesitation.

                “Ah, a wonderful age – still full of the joy, wonder, and energy of youth, but not yet weighed down by the trials and tribulations of adulthood!  Tell me, my girl, do you subscribe to the same faith as your parents?”  Jehanne nodded.  “Splendid, splendid.  So, like your parents, and like all the faithful of Arin, you are aware it is better to give than to receive, and that none are to be praised so highly as them that give to the needy?”  Jehanne nodded again, her expression growing vacant.  “That is very good to hear, indeed.  You see, dear girl, I have a need for something that you have.  Will you give it to me?”  Again she nodded, her eyes beginning to glaze over.  “Splendid, splendid.  Tell me, what is your name?”

                “Jehanne,” replied Jehanne, her voice flat and without emotion.

                “Jehanne?  Such a pretty name.  And such a pretty girl, too.  Please, Jehanne, take off your clothes for me.”  The girl nodded again, and started to undo the lacing of her bodice, her hands moving slowly, as if she wasn’t consciously controlling them.  The priest smiled broadly as Jehanne exposed first her breasts, and then the rest of her as her simple and plain dress slipped down to the floor.  “Ah, the flower of womanhood – how it blossoms!  Come close, Jehanne, let me see if your nectar is as sweet to taste as your petals are to look at.”

                “Ah, yes!” cried the Almsman as he thrust into the girl again.  “Arin approves of your offering, my sweet!  But not, ah, not half so much as I do!”  Beneath him, Jehanne moaned quietly, distantly, as if stirring in her sleep, while the priest of Arin violated her.  “Oh, thank Arin for the naivety of peasant girls!”  He grunted, swatting the girl’s rear as his groin slapped against her buttocks.  “It’s hardly even a challenge to persuade you to offer your-!”  The priest went silent, freezing in place at the feel of a cold steel point touching delicately against the flesh of his back.  Nothing moved except his eyes as a man walked out in front of him, a smirk on his bearded face.

                “You know, I always felt that religion was nothing more than a con but if I’d known it was this kind of con then, well, I’d say to myself that I ended up in the wrong line of business!  Hello, Talbot.”  The priest’s eyes bugged at being called by his real name, but otherwise he managed to remain perfectly still. 

                “Wells,” he replied weakly, his voice coming out in a flat croak.

“Let’s do introductions,” continued Wells, “my colleague behind you,” he flicked his hand in a lazy gesture, “goes by the name of Talija.  Talija, this is Marcus Talbot, a shiftless priest and unrepentant con-merchant.  Now, Marcus, I’m sure you’re smart enough to realise that’s a dagger she’s poking you with, and that if you make any movements I don’t like the look of, or if you try to charm me, then you’ll find yourself missing a kidney.  That in mind, let’s talk.”  Wells paused, glancing down at the girl that Talbot was in the midst of sodomising.  “Neam’s tits, does that girl even know what’s going on right now?”  He leaned down and waved his hand in front of her face.  Jehanne didn’t so much as blink.

                “I, um, that is to say…” Talbot cleared his throat and tried again, “No, no she does not.  When the charm wears off she will remember very little of this.  What little she does remember will seem to her like a dream.”

                “A dream that leaves her with a sore arsehole?”

                “There is that,” replied Talbot, shrugging carefully.

                “And probably a lifelong aversion to priests, I’d hope.”  Talbot just shrugged again.  “Well, anyway, we – that is, my colleague and I – are here to discuss business, not the merits and drawbacks of using enchanted jewellery to abuse young women.”

                “Business?” said Talbot, a trickle of cold sweat running down his spine and his legs beginning to cramp from the effort of holding the pose he was in.

                “Business.  I have been employed by a certain someone to act in the interests of a certain someone else of some quite considerable power and influence.  Round these parts, anyway.  Cross the border they couldn’t give two figs for his tubby arse.  Still, he’s asking me to go and investigate something that his usual employees haven’t been able to get to the bottom of, and he’s given me licence to employ others who can help me.”

                “What,” said Talbot, swallowing, “does that have to do with me?”

                “Well, the thing I’m investigating is likely to upset a few people, and there’s also likely to be folks who don’t want to answer any questions I might have.  Now I can be quite persuasive in my own right, and my colleague with the dagger certainly has her methods, but it strikes me as what we need is a real master of persuasion, someone who can tease an answer from even the most reluctant tongue.  So I thought, who’s better at the art of persuasion than my dear old friend and former co-conspirator, Marcus Talbot?  And here we are.”

                “Could I perhaps put some clothes on?” asked Talbot, his tone hopeful.

                “Not a chance.  Now, here’s the offer – you come and help me find out what’s going on in the eastern realms, and when we’re all done you’re a free man with a clean slate.”

                “I am an Almsman of Arin, what use to me is a cle-“

                “How many holds are you forbidden from entering, on pain of being dangled from the gate by your knackers?”

                “Ah, one or two, I must confess.”

                “Right.  And how many noblemen have personally vowed to make you a eunuch should they ever see you again, after what you did to their daughters?”  Talbot remained silent, but the look in his eyes answered Wells’ question for him.  “That’s what I thought.  You help me, then the fellow who’s paying me will make sure that anyone who has a reason to do you harm will be suitably paid off.  And who knows?  You might even get to have a bit of fun on the way.”  The two men stared at each other, Wells with a cocky grin on his face, while Talbot was rather more ashen.

                “Taking into account the rather close proximity your colleague’s dagger is to some of my fleshier parts, do I really have a choice?”

                “You could say no.”

                “And if I did?”

                “We’d walk out the way we came in and leave you to finish emptying your nuts in the girl’s back passage.  Assuming you’d still be in the mood for that.”

                “That’s it?” Talbot raised an eyebrow.

                “That’s it.  No catches.  Help us and you’re a new man without a nasty past.  Turns us down and we’ll leave you to it.” 

                “I would very much like to visit our fair capital again before I die…” Talbot looked down to where his flaccid member had long since slipped from Jehanne’s rear, and he let out a heartfelt sigh.  “Very well, I agree to your terms.”

                “Grand!” said Wells, clapping his hands together.  “Oh, one other thing you probably ought to know is that Talija over there,” Talbot let out another sigh, this time of relief as he felt the slight pressure on his back vanish as Well’s colleague took her dagger away, “is completely immune to your charms, and if she catches you trying to use them on me or anyone else in our group then she’ll feed you your own testicles.  Understood?”

                “Understood,” replied Talbot, his voice almost a squeak.

                “Good, good.  Now, get your clothes on, say goodbye to your latest sodomite, and let’s go find us a ranger.”